Beginnings
by barbaXbenson
Summary: A series of drabbles/one shots about the early days of Rafael and Rita's friendship, including college and their days at a private firm. Some may be stand alone Rafael, but most will include Rita and they'll all take place before he became an ADA (but they won't necessarily be in chronological order).
1. Where It All Began

A/N: So I've been intrigued/inspired for awhile now about Rafael and Rita's backstory (as you'll see in an upcoming chapter of Retribution), and a reader suggested I do some drabbles based on Rafael's time at a private firm (shout out to dine48!), so here we are. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Cambridge, MA  
** **1992**

He was there, like clockwork, three nights a week, sitting at the back corner table that she'd come to think of as _his_ table. It was almost like everyone knew it was his, as it was always open, waiting for him to come in at precisely 7:06pm, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She didn't work the weekend shift, thank God, but if she had to guess she'd say he was probably there then too.

The boy, or man, she supposed - in their twenties they preferred to be called men, right? Oh, but he still looked so very much like a boy, with his soft face and floppy hair - always stayed until closing, consuming at least a half a dozen cups of coffee, sometimes more if what he was studying was extra difficult. She was pretty sure he didn't ever sleep, at least based on his late night caffeine consumption, but she was grateful that he was a paying customer. A lot of students ordered one coffee and then set up shop for hours, never ordering another thing.

His name was Rafael, he'd given it to her his first few times in the shop, but now she wrote it automatically on his paper to-go cup at the end of the night without asking for it. And, she'd deduced from the giant books that he lugged around and currently had spread across his table, he was a law student like her.

Most of the students who chose this shop to study wore headphones, rotating their cassette tapes through their Walkmans to drown out the ambient noise, but not him. He always remained attentive to his surroundings, giving her a thankful smile when she cleared his empty white ceramic cups from the table. She wasn't sure how he managed to actually concentrate with all the distractions.

Not that there were any tonight. It was Friday and the shop was empty except for the two of them, everyone else out enjoying the start of the weekend. She stole a glance at him over the display of pastries, those that remained having gone dry from their hours in the case. His brow was furrowed as he chewed on the end of his pen, a habit of his, before he replaced the pen with a bright yellow highlighter, running it over the text he deemed important.

She glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes and she could go meet her friends. She'd already swept the floor and put all the chairs on top of the tables, except for his, so she'd only have to mop after closing. And, even though she'd already done it twice, she ran a damp cloth over the counter just to help pass the time.

Rafael glanced at his watch, eyes widening at the late hour. He flipped his books closed and began stuffing them into a backpack that would barely zip once he got them all in. She didn't know how his thin frame could cart around all that weight.

"Black coffee to go, please." He said politely as he approached the counter.

She poured the hot liquid into a paper to-go cup and scribbled his name on the side, even though it was completely unnecessary, while he fished a dollar out of his pocket.

She sat the cup on the counter between them. "Don't you think your veins are more coffee than blood at this point?" Her eyes widened when she realized she'd spoken her thoughts. It was the first thing she'd ever said to him besides "Can I take your order," and of course it was something borderline rude.

The right side of his mouth slid up in a half grin and for the first time she realized that he might be a little more trouble than she gave him credit for. "That's the goal." He said, handing her the crumpled dollar bill.

She hit a button, causing the cash drawer to pop open with a ding, but let the bill hover over it, for some reason not wanting the exchange to end. "Any fun plans for tonight?"

"Nah, just studying."

"Even on Friday night?"

He shrugged, adjusting the straps of his backpack when the movement caused them to slip a little. "That," he threw a thumb over his shoulder toward the door, where on the other side groups of coeds made their way up and down the sidewalk, laughing and shouting as they made their way to the next bar or party. "Isn't what I'm here for. Thanks for the coffee."

He picked up the cup and turned to the door, but only made it halfway before turning around. "You know my name." He held up the cup as proof, her precise lettering spelling out his name across the side. "What's yours?"

She smiled. "Rita."

"Nice to meet you, Rita." He tipped the cup in a salute before once again turning to the door. Only once the bell above it jingled, signaling his departure, did she finally put the dollar in the cash drawer, sliding it closed.


	2. Raf to the Rescue

**Cambridge, MA  
** **1993**

Rita's leg bounced nervously from her perch on the edge of the bed as she held the phone's receiver tight to her ear so she could hear over the thump of the bass coming from downstairs. After two rings she was afraid that he wouldn't pick up. Maybe he was sleeping or had actually gone out, not that he ever did either of those things.

"Hello?"

Finally. "Raf?" She couldn't help the way her voice broke at the sound of his.

"Rita? Where are you? What's wrong?"

"Sigma Chi. Can you come get me?"

He didn't hesitate. "I'll be there in ten."

A dial tone sounded in her ear, signaling that he'd hung up, so she returned the phone to its cradle. She ran a hand over her face and took a minute to fight the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks. She was enough of a cliche without crying in the bedroom at a frat party. Once she was convinced that she had it together she left the room, fighting her way through the throng of bodies, a sea of bouncing neon, to the front door so she could wait for Rafael.

She stopped on the lawn, wrapping her arms around herself, her sweatshirt fighting a losing battle against the October chill. In even less than ten minutes, Rafael came jogging up the sidewalk, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He panted, coming to a stop in front of her. Hours and hours of studying didn't exactly give one great physical stamina.

"It's so stupid really. It's just Trevor, he-"

"Did he hurt you?" Rafael interrupted, starting up the walk toward the house.

Rita reached out and put a hand around his wrist, knowing that his smart mouth would likely get him punched, or worse. "No! Nothing like that." She dropped his wrist when the tension in his shoulders eased and he turned back to her. "I caught him kissing some girl and when I said something he told me to stop being such a clingy bitch." She finished quickly, embarrassed.

Rafael's jaw worked, his teeth clenched together. His brain told him that Trevor had thirty pounds of muscle and nearly a lifetime of athletic activity on his side, and that it would be an absolutely stupid idea to march into the house and punch him in the face, but that didn't stop Rafael from wanting to do so. The look in Rita's eyes made his own face soften. It would just make her night worse if he confronted Trevor and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Please tell me you told him to fuck off." He said instead.

"Of course. I actually think that was the nicest of the things I said to him. I just feel so stupid." She shook her head, annoyed at herself.

"Didn't I warn you about dating douchey frat boy undergrads?"

Rita rolled her eyes. Rafael was never one to keep his opinions to himself, it was one of her favorite things about him, and he'd been quite vocal when she'd started dating Trevor, who was two years her junior and still an undergrad. She refused to admit that he'd been right.

"Walk me home? I didn't want to go alone, not after what happened last week."

Rafael nodded knowingly. A woman on Rita's street had been sexually assaulted the week before and it had everyone in the area on edge. "Or…" He playfully threw an arm around her shoulder. "You can come help me study patent law. It's so _boring_."

She laughed, which had been his goal. "Fine. But you're buying me pizza."

"Deal."


	3. The First of Many

**Cambridge, MA**

 **1992**

"...which led the judges to determine that necessity was not a sufficient murder defense." Rafael concluded, trying to keep a smug smile off of his face, but not doing a good job of it.

"Actually," a female voice said behind him. Rafael turned in his seat, the same one he sat in every class, second row center, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw that it was Rita from the coffee shop.

"In US v Holmes it was determined that necessity could be used as a defense," Rita continued, looking at him defiantly. "As long as the defendant is faultless and had no duty to the deceased."

"And in Dudley, some forty years later, the judges ruled that there is always a duty to sacrifice yourself for others above self preservation." Rafael stayed turned in his seat, directing his comments at Rita instead of the classroom. "Besides, it's out of the realm of possibility that a person who murders someone, even if it's to eat them for survival, is completely faultless. Leaving the point moot."

"So, you're just going to ignore the judge's ruling in the St. Christopher case?" Rita challenged.

Rafael scoffed. "Oh, come on. You're going to dredge up a case from the 1600's to make your point? The judges wouldn't even entertain that case as precedent in 1884!"

"Okay, okay." Their criminal law professor laughed, holding up both of his hands. "That's enough for today."

Rafael took longer than usual putting his book and legal pad in his bag, timing it so that he headed for the door just as Rita got to the front of the room. "I didn't know you were a law student." He said by way of greeting.

She smirked as they stepped out into the hallway. "And by that you mean you didn't know the girl who pours your coffee could afford Harvard Law." She was used to her privileged classmates looking down on her because she had to work. And even worse, had to work _serving_ people.

A small chuckle escaped Rafael's lips as he pulled on a beanie, preparing for the New England chill. She noted that it made him look even younger. "Trust me, the guy who spends his evenings working the desk in the law library thinks no such thing."

Rita looked at him with fresh eyes. No wonder he studied so hard. He had to. He didn't have money or a powerful father to guarantee his degree.

"So, do you drink coffee or just serve it?" Rafael asked.

"I don't think it's possible to survive this place without it."

"Let me buy you a cup? I'd love to continue our discussion of your misguided stance on the necessity defense." There was a twinkle in his eye as he held the door to the building open, allowing her to step through ahead of him.

Rita shrugged. "Hey, if you want to pay to hear all of the reasons why you're wrong, who am I to stop you?"

He laughed. "That's a short list. Is Frankie's okay?" He asked, referring to the shop where she worked.

"Actually, let's go somewhere else. I spend enough time there."

"Sure." He sent her a crooked smile. "Their best barista isn't working right now anyway."


End file.
